Secret Scars
by sashsweetie
Summary: She can't help but care for those who are hurting, and I am hurting. Cameron discovers a secret about Thirteen and mutual fascination brings them together. Camteen. warning: Potentially triggering. Graphic.
1. Chapter 1

My body is a canvas, a blank piece of paper. No. That's a lie; a cliché. It is a scoreboard, a history, a collection of moments. Times when the floods rose too high and I lost control; instants when I needed something to hone in on.

Focus is essential in my line of work. It's a race; a controlled dash from symptoms to diagnosis. Be too eager, draw simplified conclusions, and your diagnoses become a joke.

"Dr. Hadley?"

The voice draws my attention. "Yes?" I look up from the arm I was stitching to come face to face with Dr. Cameron.

Her eyes drift to my hip. "You're bleeding."

My eyes follow hers to find blood blossoming across my scrubs. _Shit. _"Oh…I…" I search my mind for an explanation as her green eyes examine me subtly from under her lashes. I pull a tense smile from somewhere and shrug. "I have no idea where that came from. I'll check it out when I'm done here." I gesture with my head towards the patient.

Cameron eyes me for a moment longer, sceptical, and then nods, turning away. I keep the smile plastered on my face as I finish the last few stitches and tape a piece of gauze over my eighteen year-old patient's arm "All done". I proceed to clean up.

"Thanks." The boy winks and hops off the bed.

"No problem" I strip off my gloves and exit the ER, aiming for something a little more private.

I peel off my scrubs and the gauze beneath to reveal still-bleeding lines.

When I was younger, my tools were scissors, exacto knives. In Bio 101, first year of university, I discovered scalpels. Their entire purpose of being is to cut through layers of skin – the epidermis, the dermis, subcutaneous tissue – and beyond. My ultimate tool.

Physical pain heightens the senses. It dulls extraneous emotions, keeping you focussed on the here and now. It keeps you in the game.

In my case, it also tends to make you bleed.

Sighing, I fold the piece of gauze in two and re-tape it securely, hoping this will keep more blood from showing through.

Grabbing a cup of coffee at the vending machine, I have the luck to run into Cameron again. "All's well?" she questions politely, sliding to the floor with a sigh and sipping her coffee.

I nod silently, inserting coins into the machine. I watch as the coffee pours into my Styrofoam cup. People like Dr. Cameron are dangerous. They care too much, pick up on too much. You find words spilling out of you before you can stop them or even realise that you are speaking.

"If…" her words hang and I turn, watching as she regains her courage. "If you need someone to talk to…" her eyes hold mine for an instant before sliding away.

I tense for a moment before realising she means my Huntington's diagnosis. My brain prepares a scathing response but my mouth doesn't cooperate. "Thanks" I murmur. It's hard to be callous with someone who can't help but care for hurting creatures, to try and fix the unfixable. I thought once that I pitied her.

She is as surprised as I am by my response. Her green eyes examine me again as I pick up my coffee and blow on it gently, leaning against the vending machine. The silence is comfortable as the world shuffles by our little enclave. I finish my coffee and she stands, stretching. We walk back to the ER together.

I escape the ER hours later. My eyes find Dr. Cameron bent over a patient, blood smeared across her forehead where she swept her hair out of the way with gloves on. She watches the time attentively, a small frown creasing her eyebrows as she takes a patient's pulse. She cares too much to be tired now. There's still a steady trickle of patients through the ER – people in need of her attention.

Outside, the hospital is quiet. Morning rounds will be starting soon, just as I drift into unconsciousness and I sleep my morning away. House wants me in this afternoon; to do his clinic hours, no doubt.

I wake at noon to grey rain.

House is grumpy; demanding. I choose clinic hours over spending more time with him. Lines of patients with snotty noses await me.

_Focus._ Paying attention allows me to push my own problems to the back of my mind.

Two hours later, a patient awaits us in Diagnostics.

By 9 pm I am exhausted. I leave the others to their work in favour of home. I run into Cameron as I am changing. "Night shift again?" she nods quietly. I remove my pants, too tired to think.

Her hiss of sympathy reminds me. "What happened?" My gauze only covers a small section of my hips.

I slip into my jeans quickly. "It's nothing." I chuck my scrubs into the hamper, turning back for my bag.

Cameron glares. "Bullshit."

I sigh. "Fine, it's something. Something that doesn't involve you." I grab my bag from the bench nearby.

"I know now." She informs me, grabbing my wrist.

"So?" my voice is hard.

"So, who else does? Your family that you never talk about? All of your friends? That girl you brought into the ER in the middle of the night?" Green eyes meet mine from below. "You have _no-one_. No-one but me."

Her honesty surprises me. I have no response.

She lets go of my hand. "Think about it." Cameron turns and walks out of the room, leaving me standing, confused by what just happened.

Eventually my brain kicks back in and steers me home.


	2. Chapter 2

_You have no-one but me._ The words resonate in my mind as I lie enfolded in the darkness. I know it's true.

I imagine sheep jumping fences, one by one, for hours.

I could have Foreman if I wanted. His interest is anything but discreet.

I don't want Foreman. Being a bitch keeps people at bay; Keeps them from discovering who I really am. Allison Cameron, however…Well, not even House could dissuade her from caring. I suspect, however, that her caring is a shield just as my bitchiness is. She gets what she wants…gets under people's skin – they don't get under hers. I doubt even Chase has, really.

Her stare follows me around the hospital. I pretend to ignore it.

Once in the hallway our eyes meet. I am surprised to see hurt in hers. It makes me interested.

I find her a few days later in the changing room. Her eyes hit the floor and stay there. I move in close beside her. My breath hits her ear as I speak, moving her blond hair. "You actually expected me to come to you" the phrase is somewhere between a question and a statement. I don't move. I'm too close for her. She fidgets uncomfortably but doesn't respond. I let a grin pass over my face, triumphant, and make my way to the door.

"We can't go through these things alone, you know."

I spin to find her watching me. "You do" I throw back.

A pained look crosses her features briefly. "I have…"

"Chase?" I cut her off. "Bull, Cameron." I chuckle coldly. "You're interested by people who _don't_ want you. Like House." _'Like me' _I almost add but don't. "Chase doesn't know you. He's _convenient_" I let the word hang, vicious. I'm being cruel but I don't care. I want a reaction. I don't get one. Her eyes betray nothing as she shoulders her bag and walks past me, silent.

Her stares continue to haunt me, fascination mixed with hurt. It makes me want to scream.

"What?!" I explode at her a few weeks later in the parking lot. She pulls out an earphone and looks up at me impishly.

"Yes?" she inquires, irritatingly polite.

"What do you want?" I demand.

She shrugs. "To understand" she replies simply. She gestures to the passenger side of her car.

I roll my eyes but walk around and climb in. "What do you want to understand?" _Perhaps she'll leave me alone if I answer…_

"Why" she replies, a glance to my lap indicating her meaning.

It is my turn to shrug. "If you don't know I can't explain it." I answer truthfully. Green eyes examine me again and determine I am telling the truth. I glare. "Will you leave me alone now?" I demand.

She shakes her head. "No."

My eyes narrow. "For the love of God why not? I gave you your answer!"

She doesn't respond. Perhaps she doesn't know. I watch her carefully and eventually her green eyes turn to meet my blue ones. Unconcealed interest lies there. But interest in what? The question forms on my lips. "Why do you care?" My voice is a whisper.

She shakes her head, as confused as me. "I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3

A coffee swims into my field of vision as I wake up on a couch in the lounge where I hadn't intended to fall asleep. I blink a few times and find Cameron perched on the end of the couch, smiling. I jerk upright.

"What are you doing here?" I demand in frustration.

She grins and hands me a coffee. "Waiting for you to wake up."

I take the coffee absently, mumbling something like a thank you for her attempt at a peace offering. She slides down onto the other end of the couch. I eye her suspiciously, knowing she wants something. "So…" I let the word trail.

She chuckles. "I'm just here to make an invitation." My expression is obviously sceptical because she continues quickly. "Dinner. I have tonight off and so do you, because I asked Foreman. I just want to talk."

I ponder the situation. To be honest, after our last encounter I can't help but be interested by her, too. My head slowly nods of its own volition. Her eyes light up. I examine her with amusement. "I want to pick the restaurant." I say petulantly.

Her eyes mirror mine. "I'll pick you up at seven. You're in charge of reservations."

I nod my assent and tell her my address. She exits the room smiling. I check my watch and drain my coffee.

"For someone whose name is a number, you sure can't count!" House's voice drips sarcasm. "You said you'd be back in fifteen minutes."

"You knew were I was." I reply, taking a seat at the glass table. "Any change in the patient?" Kutner shakes his head.

"We found some mould at her place. Lab's working on it now." He brings me up to date.

I sigh. "Fine. What are we doing in the meantime?"

House chucks a pack of cards on the table. "Poker" he informs us. Foreman deals.

I make it home by six, giving me a chance to shower and change into something suiting the slightly upscale Italian place I've chosen. I realise I don't know if Cameron's a vegetarian. She seems the type. Oh well, I'm sure there's some form of pasta available if she is.

Wrapped in a towel, I search through my clothes feeling vaguely irritated by the fact that I actually want to look good for Cameron. I give up on choosing between three shirts (all black) lying on my bed in favour of makeup.

A ringing doorbell makes me realise I've lost track of time, standing in the bathroom in pants and a bra. _Shit!_ Sighing, I run for the door, opening it and peeking around to find Cameron on the other side. "Hi." I welcome embarrassedly.

"Ummm…Hey." She looks vaguely confused by the fact I'm hiding behind my door. I smirk.

"Come in, I'm not quite dressed yet."

"Ah." She steps inside and I actually take a moment to notice what she's wearing. She catches me staring and blushes. "Is it too much? You said it was a nice place…" she trails off.

"It's perfect." I assure her, and it's true. It wouldn't matter if the woman was wearing a neon snow suit, she'd still look gorgeous. However, the blue satin halter she's wearing currently is indeed preferable. Not to mention hot.

"What are you wearing?" she questions, raising an eyebrow at my mostly bare upper half.

"Good question." A problem I still haven't solved. "Do you want a glass of wine or something while I get on that?"

She shakes her head. "No thanks." She heads towards my room and I follow, confused. Fingering my shirt choices she grins at me. "You like black much?"

I blush now and shrug. She picks one up. "Wear this one." She suggests, handing me my favourite of the three. I take it from her gently and pull it on. She smiles softly, examining me once again.

I turn away, suddenly awkward. "Shall we?" I grab my leather jacket off the bed. She passes me silently and I catch the scent of her shampoo. I realise this situation would be much easier if she weren't stunningly gorgeous and blatantly interested…by me? In me? I'm not even sure at this point.

"My car?" she questions as we walk down the stairs side by side.

The image of Cameron on my scooter amuses me and I grin. "Unless you want to ride my scooter."

She winks. "Perhaps another time."

"So where's Chase tonight?" I ask as I guide her to the restaurant. She looks a little guilty at the mention of his name.

"His place I assume. Maybe with Foreman. He was grumpy I blew him off." Her glance slides towards me briefly.

"Oh." I drop the subject and we sit in silence.

In the end, it wasn't as bad as I expected. She didn't question me endlessly; instead we stayed on safe subjects like life at the hospital and where we'd been beforehand.

I also discovered that Cameron didn't hold her alcohol all that brilliantly. Two glasses in; I informed her I was driving back. Tipsy, any of her shyness disappeared. She was vibrant, at ease. She had a dryer sense of humour than I would have guessed. She even teased me about bringing my one-night stand into the ER.

Lying in bed that night, with Cameron's car (I had agreed to deliver it in the morning after dropping her off) outside, I realised I had enjoyed myself with her. She hadn't pushed for explanations, she simply seemed to like my company. Perhaps I'd guessed right to begin with. Maybe Allison Cameron was just as alone as I was.


	4. Chapter 4

I ring the doorbell, Cameron's keys in hand. I hear loud music click off inside and the door unlock. "Hey!" She has evidently just jumped off the treadmill.

"Sorry, I should have called."

"Come in" she invites, moving away into the apartment. I follow somewhat reluctantly. "Coffee?" she questions.

I nod, taking a seat at her kitchen table. She sets about making it, chugging water as she does. I take in the sparse apartment while Cameron bounces around with too much energy for this time of day. A few minutes later she joins me armed with coffee and biscotti. They're chocolate-dipped, so I grab one happily, swirling it in my coffee. "Home-made?" I ask before taking a bite. Cameron laughs at me.

"When would I make them?" She questions. "Besides, I can't cook. Trust me."

"Me neither." I admit, taking a sip of coffee. "Lasagna is the one thing I do well."

Cameron nods, taking a biscotti. "Potatoes au gratin for me." She pushes a damp curl behind her ear, smiling. "Thanks for driving last night."

"It's really no problem. I had a good time." I watch her face. She looks pleased.

"Me too."

I take a sip of coffee and her eyes linger on my face when she thinks I'm not looking. I still don't understand. Even if she is lonely; why me? "What are you doing today?" I ask her tentatively.

"I promised myself to Chase in lieu of last night." She admits sheepishly. "You?"

"I hadn't thought about it." I look out her window at the miserable weather. "Probably hiding indoors."

She nods, playing with her biscotti. We finish our coffee quietly.

"Do you mind if I shower before we go?" Cameron questions, jerking me out of my reverie.

"Go for it." I grab another of her biscotti and begin munching on it, receiving a smile.

"Okay." She gets up from the table slowly, and I watch her as she walks towards the bathroom.

She squeezes my hand as she drops me in front of my apartment. I turn towards her to find green eyes meeting my own. I smile and squeeze back. "See you later." Her eyes follow me to my door through the rain.

My day is spent alone. I decide the apartment needs cleaning and set about it systematically, trying to scrub Allison Cameron from my brain. She won't go. Later I shower, and conclude I am hungry. A glance at the clock tells me it's dinner time. Searching my cupboards I find pasta. It will do. As I set it to boil a knock at my door surprises me.

"Cameron?" I question as I open the door to her. "What's wrong?" I motion her inside and out of the rain.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

"I thought you were with Chase." She follows me to the kitchen.

"I was."

I nod. "Hungry?"

A smile blossoms. "Sure."

I pour glasses of wine as we wait for the pasta to cook. "Why did you come?" I question, not looking at her.

"This is where I wanted to be." Her voice sounds honest enough. I turn. Her eyes are on the floor, but slowly come up to my face. Her gaze is intense and I blush, turning away again to grab the glasses of wine. I sit down beside her and slide her glass over. She chuckles and I look up. "You're cute when you're embarrassed." She explains.

"Oh." For some reason I can't think of anything else to say. My snarky quips and bitchiness seem to disappear around her. In slow motion, her fingers move towards me and brush a piece of hair out of my face, then linger. My eyes find hers. They are burning.

"Why can't I get you out of my head?" she murmurs, fingertips tracing my jawline.

Suddenly I am moving towards her, my lips finding hers and her hands tangled in my hair. Sensation floods my mind.

We come up gasping for air, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes shining.

That is the most I've felt in a long time. I examine her, still breathless. She is glowing. "The pasta's probably done." She points out.

I don't really care, and say so. She chuckles again and stands up to dump it into a colander anyway, then pulls me up and we relocate to the couch.

She is warm as she snuggles into my side, sipping wine. I am still in awe of what is happening, unable to quite wrap my head around it. I wonder if she feels the same.

Eventually the growling of my stomach wins out and I get up to swirl the pasta in sauce. Cameron watches my from the couch and I return with two bowls. "Thanks." Her lips whisper across mine. I smile beneath them, and feel her do so as well. We eat in silence, curled on the couch.

"Will you stay?" I question later, my cheek on her hair. She nods against my shoulder.

I stay awake for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of her warm body curled into mine, her breathing even and comfortable. I roll towards her, my far arm wrapping around her, and she tucks herself under my chin. For the first time in I can't remember how long, I am content.

A flutter of eyelashes on my neck spurs me awake. Cameron shifts a little in my arms. "Morning" I murmur.

"Hi." She moves so she can see me and smiles. I prop myself up on an elbow and lean in to kiss her gently. Cameron draws me down, leaning back against the pillows. I chuckle.

"You're naughty." I point out.

"I know." She agrees. "But you like it."

"I do." I place a kiss on her lips. "However, we have work."

She groans, cuddling closer into the blankets.

"If you're very good you can shower with me first." I offer.

She grins. "What if I'm bad?"

I pretend to ponder. "You can shower with me anyway."

"Well then where's my incentive?"

"I'll withhold the coffee." I decide. Cameron pouts. I grin. I love to win.

She follows me begrudgingly out of bed.

Forty minutes later, we're heading out the door. "See you at work!" I wink, pulling on my helmet. She kisses me gently.

"At work." She affirms.

We go our separate ways.


	5. Chapter 5

Thoughts ricochet around my skull. Concepts, feelings, morals collide. I am overwhelmed.

Cameron has left; for now at least. The task lying ahead of her is a difficult one – she has decided to end things with Chase, feeling it unfair to continue our affair while being in a relationship that has lost its meaning. Her choice - not mine. I was surprisingly content to share, mostly because she made it evident where her feelings lay. We're more compatible than she and Chase could ever be.

It has been a day of difficult conversations for both of us. Huntington's, death, cutting, the past and the present; what the future holds. Overwhelming. Too much for me to think about. Frightening memories and possibilities.

Panic bubbles up.

I'm sitting on my bathroom floor, scalpel in hand. My coping mechanism, however dysfunctional. I know I'll feel better afterwards.

Deep breath.

I choose a site and cut. Pain and blood well up across the line. Nociception. My blood is red. Plasma. Platelets. Erythrocytes. Leukocytes. It's amazing how much is contained in these little beads which are melding on my leg. A rivulet slides down my thigh. I watch, entranced.

Another cut follows the first.

An hour later I am cleaned with rubbing alcohol, held together with gauze and tape. All traces of damage are removed from my bathroom.

Cameron's eyes are red when she returns. I open my arms to her and she cries into my neck. Endings are hard, even when they are of your own volition.

She finds me out later as I am changing for bed, her mouth tightening as she spots the gauze. Her fingertips explore tenderly. "May I see?"

I shake my head in silence.

She contemplates for a moment. "Can you try and explain why?"

I climb into the bed beside her and try to come up with an explanation.

"You know how if you blow up a balloon too much it pops?" She nods. "If you bleed off the air, the balloon gets further from popping." I take a deep breath. "For me, negative emotions are like a balloon that's close to popping. Cutting is bleeding off the air." I pause a moment to see if she wants to interject. She doesn't. "I know it's not functional, but it is a coping mechanism. Like being bitchy and sarcastic to keep from being vulnerable to people."

"Why did you do it today?" she questions, trying her hardest to understand.

I shrug. "We talked about some difficult things. You were doing something painful that I felt like I was contributing to. It was just too much for me to handle."

Cameron nods again. "Okay. I can understand that." Her fingers trace the bandage under my pyjamas. "But I'd like it if we could explore alternative methods of siphoning off your negative emotions."

I smile wryly. "Me too."

She cuddles into me, comforted, and I turn off the light.

Cameron sleeps. I do not; voices in my head telling me I've said too much, let her in too far. I push them aside. Of anyone I could let in, she makes the most sense. She doesn't push too hard. She asks gently, stops when I get uncomfortable.

Night disappears in silence.

We spend hours each day just talking. Learning. She tells me stories.

I hear about her family. Mother. Father. Brother. Her husband who died too soon and left a hole she couldn't fill. He inspired her move to medicine. She couldn't save him, but she could save others. She still misses him.

We discuss House. He's like us. Lonely – but he likes it that way, or believes he does. Really, if he can't have Stacey, he wants Cuddy. He inspired Cameron's interest, her care. I dislike him intensely, but he can teach me. He tests my walls, invades my privacy. Too close to truths he can't discover.

I tell her pieces of my past. My hatred of my mother shocks her. I don't think Cameron has the ability to hate. She is surprised I don't talk to my father. I tell her he doesn't want to hear from me. I lost his respect by living my life instead of watching my mother fade day by day, year by year. He loved her more than he could ever love me. I graduated high school and left him in peace with his memories.

She suggests I call sometime. I shrug and say I'll think about it, and surprise myself by actually doing so. Maybe one day I'll find the courage to pick up the phone and dial.

Cameron calls her parents to tell them she broke up with Chase. Yes, for someone else. Yes, another doctor at the hospital. _Her_ name is Dr. Remy Hadley. Her mother hangs up on her. Cameron's face crumples. I wipe away her tears and tell her they'll come around.

She goes home to run away her pain.

Her brother calls that night and makes her laugh. He says it's hot she's into girls and wants to talk to me. She passes me the phone and he makes me laugh too. I tell him to come and visit. He promises he will.

Our relationship is emotionally deep and physically slow. Cameron is afraid she won't know what to do. I promise her she doesn't need to worry, but that we can wait as long as she wants.

I take her dancing and teach her to rock climb. She teaches me to laugh at myself. We try and learn to cook, but our disasters culminate in a mutual decision to order in.

When her brother finally comes to visit, we take time off work and end up having a day-long Playstation war followed by drinks at a local bar from which we can stumble home at three am. The next day we take him out of town and stay at a resort. He treats me like a sister and gives me noogies. I watch in amusement as he and Cameron fight over the remote control. We miss him when he leaves.

I ask if we should tell people at work we're going out. Cameron shrugs and says she doesn't mind. We decide not to.

I am at ease. I am not lonely anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

"Remy?" Cameron removes her glasses and looks up from her book.

"Hmm?" I reply vaguely from my spot at the kitchen counter, trying to understand Cameron's new espresso machine well enough to make myself a cup of coffee.

"How do you feel about cats?"

My head jerks up. She is wearing the impish expression I always have trouble resisting. "I like them. Why?" I ask suspiciously.

"Well enough to get one?"

"You want a cat?" Cameron nods. "Which apartment would we keep it at?"

She shrugs. "I don't mind. We spend more time at yours though."

"Won't it get lonely?"

That afternoon we arrive at my apartment with not one, but two kittens and a trunkload of cat supplies. Cameron is ecstatic. "What do you want to call them?" she questions, carrying a towel lined box containing the two sleepy-looking black kittens.

"Why don't we spend some time with them before deciding?" I point out "Wouldn't want to name them wrong." I follow her with plastic bags.

We get everything set up and then curl up on the couch with a kitten each and throw names back and forth. "Shadow?" I suggest, stroking the neck of my purring charge.

"Yeah, I like Shadow." Cameron agrees. Her kitten is more adventurous and keeps trying to climb the front of her sweater.

I chuckle. "Maybe this one should be Shadow." I pick up the kitten in my lap and cuddle it to me. "Yours needs something with more pep."

We end up calling her Stardust.

The rest of the day passes in watching and entertaining the kittens, who seem intent on exploring every crevice of the apartment. Their clumsiness amuses me – I had always thought of cats as graceful.

We order pizza for dinner and Stardust sits in my lap as I eat a slice. Her sister has fallen asleep in their basket by the heater, uninterested by our human food. I laze against Cameron. "Bedtime?" she questions.

I nod "Soon."

She reads, stroking my hair, until she too is yawning.

The kittens follow us to bed and we fall asleep to rhythmic purring.

My alarm clock jars us awake. I stretch against Cameron, my movement causing protest from a small, furry body on my left. "Sorry." I inform Shadow, who yawns widely.

I turn over to find Cameron grinning at me, still bundled in covers. I kiss the tip of her nose. "What?"

"You're cute."

"Am not" I sit up.

She follows suit. "Whatever." She yawns and relocates Stardust so she can get out of bed. Stardust is unimpressed, but curls up in the warm spot she has left. Shadow joins her. We watch them, amused, before showering.

Work is unexciting. We have no new cases, so I work in the clinic until lunch. I find Kutner and Taub in the cafeteria and sit with them. Cameron appears not long after me, as does Foreman. The guys, at least, seem to have accepted what they assume to be a friendship between Cameron and I. She looks tired. "Lots of patients?" I question, stealing one of her fries.

"Yeah, there was a big pileup on the highway."

"Need a hand? We don't have any cases." I offer.

"Yeah. We spent the morning playing Monopoly." Kutner puts in. I snort. At least I did something productive.

Cameron nods. "We could use a few extra people if you guys aren't doing anything."

We all volunteer – keeping House entertained is only something you can do for so long.

We leave the hospital late, deciding on leftover pizza for dinner. I can only make it through a few bites. Cameron finishes my share. Saving lives makes her hungry. I snuggle into her, falling asleep. The kittens join me, warm and cuddly.

"Come on, Remy." Cameron pokes me, picking up the kittens. I grumble, comfortable against her. "Bedtime…" she murmurs in my ear.

I stumble from the living room to the bedroom, pausing to divest myself of clothes before falling into bed, too tired to bother with pyjamas. Cameron laughs as she follows me. I glare jokingly from beneath the covers and pull her towards me as she climbs in, wrapping her in my arms. Sleep comes quickly tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

I am lying with my head in Cameron's lap, somewhere on the drunk side of tipsy. She lazily toys with my hair, sipping her own glass of wine vaguely.

"How long do the potatoes take?" I question.

"Around an hour."

I finally get to experience the much-anticipated potatoes-au-gratin. They looked complicated, though that may have been amplified by the bottle of wine we were drinking at the time of their creation. I was in charge of grating the cheese.

The cats got left-over cream and are pleased, curled in their box licking it from their whiskers.

I sit up carefully, reaching for my glass of wine. Cameron entwines her fingers with mine and holds out her glass for a refill. I comply. "We should probably save some for dinner, you know." I point out.

"Mmm" Cameron leans back against the couch again. I rest my head on her shoulder. I am looking forward to our mutual day off. It's been a while since we had one, and Cameron's mostly been working nights this week. She kisses my hair tenderly. I turn my face up and her lips brush my own. I smile, and her mouth returns, stronger this time.

Suddenly our glasses of wine have disappeared and she is gently pushing me down onto the couch, her lips delicately exploring my face and neck while her fingers trace lines under my shirt.

I run my fingers through her silky hair. I never tire of her hair. It's auburn again now, and loose, cascading down her back and falling around us like a curtain.

"Hey" I murmur between kisses. "Shall we move this to the bedroom? The kittens are a bit young for this type of thing."

Her lips curve upward in amusement, and she slides off me gracefully, offering her hand. I take it and lead her to our room.

"You are wearing far too many clothes." She informs me as she pulls my shirt up over my head.

"Oh, I know." I agree, pulling her down on top of me. I tease her by undoing her blouse buttons one by one and she grumbles. I roll my eyes at her and she grins. "It isn't my fault you're wearing clothes with so many buttons!" I joke, moving on to her suit pants. She sighs and shimmies out of them. Cameron in an undone blouse kneeling on top of me reminds me of a naughty school girl fantasy and I smirk.

She divests me of my own pants in far less time.

We are entwined in one another. I slide my fingers inside her gently and watch as her pupils dilate with pleasure. I smile as she gasps. She kisses me hard before I relocate my mouth for other purposes. Her clit is swollen as I tease it with my tongue. She moans and pulls at my hair. I love that Cameron is anything but proper during sex. It contrasts nicely with her often overly-innocent demeanour. She is most certainly not innocent when it comes to making love. And she's _loud_.

Muscles tense and spasm inside her before releasing with a gush of fluid pleasure as she comes. I pull out and move up to lie beside her as she lies panting on the bed. Her face is flushed and her hair sweaty, stuck to her body. I pull it free gently. She rolls towards me, tucking herself under my chin. I hold her comfortably. "You are amazing." She whispers.

I chuckle. "Thanks." We lie in silence for a few more minutes while Cameron regains herself.

The smoke alarm goes just after I come. "Shit!" Cameron runs without pause for clothing, into the kitchen as I lie supine on the bed. The cat's run in in panic, to hide, huddled, under the bed. I hear the fan go on and the window open as Cameron jerks the oven open. I pull on pants and a baggy t-shirt and pad into the kitchen after her, grabbing a tea towel to fan at the smoke alarm until it stops.

"What's the damage?" I question, peeking over Cameron's shoulder at the pan, my arms going around her waist.

She leans her head against mine. "The top's a bit burnt, but I think its okay." She removes the oven gloves and turns to face me, smirking. "Well, that made for an exciting finish."

I chuckle. "Indeed." I kiss her nose gently. "Now how about some clothes?"

She nods. I follow her into the bedroom. "It may take some convincing to get the cats out from under the bed." I kneel down and peer into the darkness. Green eyes glow back at me. "Come on guys, the alarm is off now." I inform them, reaching a hand underneath. A hiss informs me that neither of them are moving anytime soon, and I retreat. "Right." I look up at Cameron. "I think they're staying here. Dinner?"

She smiles. "Dinner."

The potatoes au gratin are delicious, eaten with another glass of white wine each at the table. We peel off the burnt top layer and enjoy the creaminess underneath.

We discuss plans for our day off, the foremost of which is sleeping in.

Eventually the cats determine it is safe and return to watch us from their basket by the heater.

We laugh and joke, and I believe that this is what life is meant to be.


	8. Chapter 8

"What's the theme?" I ask woefully, fingering a dress. There's a hospital fundraiser, and thus I have been dragged shopping.

"Top Hat" Cameron holds a dress up and examines herself in the mirror. "What do you think of this?" I wander over.

"I think you look beautiful in everything." I bury my face in her hair. She sighs.

"But is it appropriate?"

I pause to actually look at the dress made of turquoise satin, off the shoulder and cascading towards the floor. It suits her perfectly. "Definitely. Go try it on."

She examines me, surprised. "Okay…" she trails off towards the dressing room. I continue my own search in the mean time. Top Hat. Well, that certainly means I'm taking the opportunity to _wear_ a hat. I conclude I want something slinky and black. And perhaps a tie.

This is Cameron and I's first event as a couple, and it worries me a little. I've never done anything like this before. Long term relationships have never exactly been my thing. But then, neither have formal events.

"Zip me up?" Cameron has emerged from the dressing room. I zip her up and she turns around.

"You're getting that." I inform her. She raises an eyebrow at me and looks in the mirror.

"I do like it." She agrees, stroking the soft fabric.

"And you're getting it." I re-iterate.

She smiles at me. "I take this to mean you like the dress?" I nod vehemently. "Okay." She decides. "I'll get it." She examines herself once more in the mirror before returning to the dressing room to change.

I continue my search for something black. Cameron joins me in a few minutes. "Anything you like?" she questions.

I shake my head. "I want something black and slinky." I whine. "And a hat."

She grins. "A top hat perchance?"

I shrug. "Or a fedora."

A week or so later I am in the bathroom, putting on makeup, with Cameron beside me doing the same. My hair is pulled back into a sleek bun. My dress is slinky. I have a hat.

I return to our room and pick up my bag. "We should go."

"Are you sure the necklace looks good?" Cameron turns to me, gesturing to the three-string black pearl necklace around her neck. I roll my eyes.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, Allison."

She blushes and exits the bathroom, kissing me gently on the cheek. "And so do you."

"Well then we'll be sure to stun everybody" I smirk.

"Indeed." Cameron picks up her own bag from the bed. "All right, let's go."

I take a deep breath as I walk into a transformed conference room with Allison Cameron on my arm. I feel like all eyes are on us, scrutinising us, judging us, when in reality the room is so full of giddy doctors and donors that no-one has even noticed us yet.

We locate the bar and get glasses of champagne.

"Well, well, well, isn't _this_ a surprise." House's voice filters over us.

"Should have guessed you'd be near the bar" I mutter under my breath, before turning, pulling Cameron with me, and heading away from House. He follows us. Luckily, Wilson intervenes, waving us towards his table. Having Wilson as a buffer may keep me from losing it at House completely. Cameron guides me towards Wilson's table and sits down, her hand still in mine. I follow suit, taking a deep breath.

Wilson smiles, interested. "I didn't know you two were together."

Cameron nods. "For about nine months now." I am busy trying to keep my cool as House takes a seat at the table.

"Wow." Wilson is evidently surprised.

Cameron chuckles. "I guess we kept it pretty quiet, didn't we?" she looks to me and squeezes my hand in comfort.

I nod. "Yeah. Didn't want _certain people_ making a big deal out of it." I direct this at a certain someone who is grinning at me from beside Wilson.

"A big deal out of what?" Just what we need. Cuddy. I grit my teeth.

Wilson saves us. "Allison and Remy are dating, isn't that nice?" He smiles one of his dazzling smiles up at Cuddy.

"Oh." She takes a seat beside me rather less gracefully than usual. "Really?"

Cameron and I bob our heads in assent.

"For nine months." House feels the need to put in, his grin growing.

I sneak a glance at Cuddy, who seems to be on the verge of a heart attack wondering how this managed to escape her notice for so long. "If it helps, no-one knew." I smile a little in her direction. She nods vaguely.

"I'll be right back. I'm getting some champagne." She stands and heads purposefully in the direction of the bar.

I can't help but grin. Cameron looks worried.

"I'll go talk to her." Wilson beelines after Cuddy, abandoning us with House.

"Causing quite the stir, aren't you." He points out, stirring his martini lazily with the olive stick.

"Shut up." I tell him. I don't like the shade of pale Cameron is turning. I squeeze her hand. "You okay?" I whisper. She shakes her head.

"Chase." She murmurs, and I follow the direction of her gaze. Chase has just entered the room with Foreman and is glaring in our direction, fists clenched.

"You want to leave?"

She shakes her head. "We have every right to be here."

I kiss her hair gently.

House snorts. "Touching" he stands to leave, draining his martini glass, as Cuddy and Wilson return. Cuddy looks far calmer. I smile at Wilson and receive one in return. Talking with them provides a much needed distraction. Cameron gradually returns to a normal colour.

"Well that wasn't a complete disaster." I comment as we lie in bed that night.

Cameron snuggles into me. "No. It wasn't." she murmurs.

"Thank God for Wilson."

She chuckles. "Here's to that."


	9. Chapter 9

The first time it happens I'm inserting an IV. It isn't noticeable to an outsider, only to me. I don't receive weird looks; no-one grabs the IV away to do it for me. A tiny jerk. Nothing.

I sit at home watching the rain out the window, deep in thought. How fast will I fall apart? How long will I still be capable of enjoying my life? What will Allison think?

Cameron comes in the front door, hair dripping even after the short run from her car. I turn to her and try to smile. She comes over and wraps wet arms around me, rain scented hair cascading over me as her head rests on my chin. "Hey, Rem."

"Hi." I whisper. She backs away a little and sits beside me, taking my hand. There is a frown wrinkling her forehead.

"What's wrong?"

I look at her. Her eyes search mine. I look away. "My hand twitched today."

"As in…" she trails off. I nod. Chorea.

Her free hand reaches out to stroke my hair. "Oh, Rem." I can hear the devastation in her voice.

I chuckle hollowly. "We knew it was going to happen sooner or later."

She sighs. "I know."

I move towards her then, allowing myself to feel the pain I am experiencing. That she's experiencing. Cameron rocks me gently, her lips in my hair.

At least I'm not alone.


	10. Chapter 10

"I did some research." Cameron looks up at me from over a journal article she's reading. "I think we should try and get you on tetrabenazine."

I nod. I've read about it. Helpful in the reduction of chorea. "I don't want anyone at the hospital to know."

She smiles. I haven't shot her down yet and she's pleased. "I also looked up some specialists."

"Me too" I admit. There's no point in being in denial about this disease now.

"Dr. Pearl is taking patients." Cameron mentions tentatively.

"I called her this morning. I have an appointment on Wednesday." I come and sit down on the couch across from her, and hand her a glass of wine.

Cameron takes a deep breath. "I'm glad you're handling this so well." She looks away from me, embarrassed. "I heard what happened when you found out and…well…I'm just glad." It rushes out and she's afraid to look at me.

I reach out and tip her head up so she's looking at me. "There's more at stake now." I love to see her smile.

She reaches out to clink her glass with mine. "Cheers" she murmurs.

I rotate so I can lean against her. "I love you." I whisper.

She kisses me gently. "And I love you."

I finally call my dad and tell him what is happening to me. We talk. He says he's glad I have someone who cares about me given what I'm about to go through. I don't ask him to visit and he doesn't offer. When I hang up the phone I start to cry and can't stop. I don't know why.

Cameron sits beside me on the floor and holds me. Again I am the vulnerable one. It's not something I'm used to.

I let her pamper me. Her strong hands massage me as we lie together in the bubble bath she runs. She wraps me in a bathrobe and tucks me into the couch, bringing me pasta and wine. She lets me disconnect my brain for a few hours, emotions I can't deal with sliding over me instead of sinking in to cause pain. I just stop thinking.

When my brain reconnects I talk to her. I don't want to die, I want to live – live with her, like we have been. Happy. I don't want to slowly disintegrate until I can no longer control my body, until my brain no longer has control. One of the most common cause of death in Huntington's patients is choking. Smooth muscle stops contracting and you die coughing, gasping, unable to breath. Not a pretty way to go.

She tells me that we're all dying – it's a question of how fast. She tells me about research and how we can try to control my symptoms for as long as possible. We have good years left. She tells me not to be afraid; she'll be there until I stop breathing. She'll take care of me. She loves me no matter what.

Will I even know her at the end? Will I know anything? My mother didn't, at the end. She couldn't even talk.

It's here now. It's happening. I am paralysed by my fear.


	11. Chapter 11

Dr. Pearl doesn't want me put on tetrabenazine, at least not yet. My twitches are few and far between, and given my history of depression, it isn't a good drug for me to begin with. She wants to try benzodiazepines when things get worse. Probably diazepam, though she's worried about it increasing my chance of cutting again. In the face of things, this concept makes me laugh.

Allison and I try to live as we did before, though it's hard sometimes with my diagnosis hanging over us.

There are a lot of "what ifs". What if I twitch and lose my grip while climbing? What if I spill boiling water? What if I…? Allison worries constantly.

I can't live my life that way. I don't know how much there is left.

Allison wants to get married. A recognisable symbol of our commitment to one another. I ask who we would invite. The list is short. Her mother, father, brother. My father. Wilson and Cuddy, the two co-workers who actually take an interest in our relationship.

I say okay.

We set a date and rent out a venue – a beautiful garden. We find a marriage commissioner and dresses. Send out invitations. Cameron has long since stopped staying at her apartment and puts it on the market. We start looking for a new place together.

The day is a vision, even to me. Simple, but beautiful. The garden is in full bloom, tables draped in white and set with lilies form a slight aisle down the centre. I want Allison to walk down the aisle and she does, glowing, on her father's arm. My father stands beside me and the commissioner. Allison and I bob in white dresses against green grass. I can't stop smiling.

We are clapped for. Everyone gives toasts over dinner. We sit in the evening and glow in candlelight, getting to know one another. We stay up late, drinking and joking. A white car takes Allison and me to the suite we are staying in, luxuriating, for the next few days. A gift from her parents, who think we work too hard. She hasn't told them about my Huntington's. This is a happy day, she says. There'll be time enough later.

The suite is lovely, and we laugh as we fight about who carries who over the threshold, resolving to jump over it arm in arm. As I drift off, I realise I miss the purring of Stardust and Shadow, and wonder if they miss us too. I think of posing the question to Allison, but a glance at her face tells me she is already asleep.

We spend the next few days enjoying the hotel - the pool, the Jacuzzi, the spa, the room. We have meals with our mutual family. They don't stick around long.

We decide to take a belated honeymoon later in the year and travel. Take a leave while I'm still functional. Sad but true.

My only wish is that I could have longer. I have never known happiness like this.


	12. Chapter 12

I am standing in a sea of boxes, tagged and ready to go to our new place. A nice house on a nice street with not too many stairs for when things get worse. Easily made wheelchair accessible. I don't even want to imagine.

Movers arrive to transport our belongings to a new world.

An electric shock moves through my arm and I drop a vase. Antique. Allison's. I burst into tears in frustration and embarrassment. She tries to comfort me but I flee into our new bathroom to escape in my mortification.

I come back later to find my mess cleaned up and wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I know."

It is the right reply. No placement of blame while acknowledging my feelings. An excellent response from a well-trained physician. I sigh and go back to helping.

The cats are hiding in the bedroom, fearful of their new home. I both love and hate it. It is _ours_, but it shows in its design the course my illness will take. It is the house I will die in.

_There are good years left for us_. I repeat this like a mantra, over and over.

We order dinner and unwrap the couch while we wait for it to arrive. We've opened all the boxes and put them in their proper rooms. Large pieces of furniture are in place. I rinse two plates of wrapping dust and put them on the table. We find some wine and pour it into the only glasses we can find.

I curl into Allison on the couch. My depression is overwhelming. I am afraid. Wetness seeps through my hair and I look up to find her crying silently. She is frightened, too. We cling to one another until the food arrives.

We don't clean up after we eat. We don't continue unpacking. We don't even speak. We lie on our couch entwined in one another, fearing the future.

I wonder where my hope has gone.


	13. Chapter 13

I climb from the bed feeling cold and stand at the closet, contemplating what is clean and wearable. Allison's things hand pristinely on the other side, contradicted by my piles – one clean, one dirty. I pull some pyjama pants and an already-worn sweatshirt from the pile and put them on as I beeline back to the bed. Allison is propped up against the pillows watching me, her eyes sad.

"You're losing weight."

I nod. I find it impossible to eat when I'm upset or worried, and lately I am both. "Yeah" I whisper, pulling the covers over me and snuggling up to her. She wiggles down beside me and wraps me in her arms.

"I'm worried, Remy." Her voice is close to my ear.

"I'm scared." I admit. Things aren't bad yet. Still just little twitches. But I'm afraid of dying, even more so at the mercy of this disease. The fear alone is killing me, or so it feels. Allison doesn't reply, but her breathing tells me she is still awake an hour later as I finally drift off.

"We should go away for a while" Allison comments lightly the next morning as she makes coffee. "Take some time."

Escaping the day to day rush of the hospital and care of the sick seems like a logical idea. I play along. "To where?" I question, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"Somewhere warm." Allison takes a sip of coffee and pushes a mug towards me, which I take gratefully. She turns in my arms and I see the deep purple under her eyes, like bruises.

"What time did you get to sleep?" I question, feeling guilty. She shrugs and looks away. I suspect that means she didn't. I leave the subject alone and return to the idea of a trip.

I see her later, leaving Wilson's office with puffy eyes and I go in once she's out of sight. "How is she?" I ask softly from just inside the door. Wilson looks up, surprised.

"Remy!" He recovers quickly. "Come and sit down." His eyes appraise me. I sit, self-conscious as he offers me tea.

"How is she?" I ask again once we are both drinking the warm liquid, mine laden with milk and sugar. "She tries so hard to be strong around me."

Wilson sighs and puts down his tea. "Allison is….exhausted." he admits eventually. "She's afraid she's not doing the right things to help, and she's getting more worried as you lose weight."

I nod, stirring my tea absently. "I'm destroying her." I murmur.

"No!" Wilson contradicts me vehemently. "She's happy with you, just worried. You both need a break." He smiles. "I think going away for a while is a great idea."

"Somewhere warm" I agree, still distant. My mind is on Allison.

I arrive home armed with travel pamphlets for every country under the sun that has a warm climate and curry. Allison smiles as she sees my cargo. We flip through them as I try and get through my share. I don't get too far before anxiety bubbles up and makes me feel ill. I start tearing off pieces of naan bread, trying to at least choke them down.

We decide on Bali.


	14. Chapter 14

It is my turn to lie awake. No matter what Wilson says, I feel like I am destroying the beautiful creature who is lying next to me. She fell asleep before dinner today, too exhausted after a shift in the ER to stay up any more. In the end, I didn't bother with ordering anything, instead making a packet of instant soup and curling in the window seat to stare at the street below until I, too, fall into bed exhausted.

My mind won't let me sleep.

Allison shifts only slightly as I rest my head on her shoulder and wrap an arm around her. She doesn't wake as I cry myself into unconsciousness.

We book tickets to Bali. We're going to stay in Jungubatu on the island of Nusa Lembongan for a week, and then stay at a hotel in Ubud. The last week we've left open to figure out what we want to see once we get there. There's so much, and I can't help but be excited by the myriad of temples, extinct volcanoes, and history of the place. Allison is thrilled too, and I laugh as I hear her practicing Bahasa Indonesia at the computer. We attempt making some Balinese dishes, but they fail almost as spectacularly as our attempts at Western cooking.

Our anxiety wanes in the face of a new adventure. I gain a little weight, and there is a glow in Allison's cheeks that I have sorely missed.

The weeks fall away.


	15. Chapter 15

We fly into Ngurah Rai international airport via Washington and Seoul. 26 hours of travel after our departure I am exhausted but mesmerised as we land in a green tropical country. It's beautiful. Allison is asleep on my shoulder even as we land. I managed a few hours of sleep between Washington and Seoul.

After collecting our bags, we are too tired to do much except take a cab to our hotel and pass out for the night. I have to say it hasn't quite hit me that I'm on the other side of the world, and I probably wouldn't believe it if it weren't for the foreign language flowing rapidly back and forth all around us.

I wake refreshed the next morning to find Allison showered and flipping through the information package for the hotel.

"Hey" I sit up and stretch, yawning.

She looks up and smiles. "Morning, Sleepyhead."

I grin. "What time is it?"

"10 am in Denpasar!" Allison comes to jump up on the bed beside me. "We're in Bali!"

Her excitement is contagious and I share a moment of hugging and laughing before deciding that I seriously need a shower and some coffee.

We splash out and order room service since we have only an hour before check out.

Picking up our rental car, we drive the short distance to Kusamba, where we take the ferry to Nusa Lembongan.

_This is surreal_ I think to myself as we pass over sparkling blue water to an island where no cars are allowed.

We stay at a lodge in a private bungalow with a view of the ocean. We are near town, and it is easy to walk to nearby restaurants and the water. We spend a few hours on the beach before wandering into town to explore.

After looking around, we decide on a restaurant and experiment with some local dishes. Allison tries out her language skills, receiving some amused looks from both the waiters and people at the other tables who don't seem to understand why we aren't eating at the hotel. At any rate, we end up eating something delicious, though I have no idea what it is.

I'm glad I'm not picky.


End file.
